Home Sweet Home
by hullosweetpea
Summary: While the Impala had been home forever, the longer Dean stays in the bunker, the more it feels like home. And now with Cas, sinking down in the memory foam at night is home sweet home. Fluffy Destiel


**A/N: I was in the mood for super fluffy Destiel, this is the result. My fluffy SPN always seems to take place in the bunker. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: Kripke's**

Home Sweet Home

With a comforting sigh Dean laid down on his bed. Nothing was better than coming back from a hunt and getting to take a shower where he didn't have to wonder if the hot water was going to cut out on him. It was nice to be able to make a pie or burgers in a real kitchen if he damn well wanted too. And laying on a bed with bedding that he knew for a fact were clean, and recently, smelling sweet and fresh, not stale, was pretty great too. But the best part of it all was still _his_ room. He rolled over and looked around the bedroom and smiled. Over the years since they had first started occupying the bunker Dean's room had changed and adapted.

All the weapons were still hanging on the wall and he tried to dust them at least once a week; he had never had the luxury to own anything that could collect dust besides the Impala. Some clothes and a spare pair of boots congregated on the floor, which Dean told himself he could pick up tomorrow. He had amassed a small collection of his favorite vinyls, this being managed by vinyl's comeback, and kept them next to a record player.

But then there were the pictures.

At the beginning he only had the picture of himself and his mom, but then it grew too. He had added the picture of John with Henry after they had returned to the bunker after Henry's death. There were also the other pictures he wasn't responsible for, like ones taken by Charlie on her phone that she later printed off because Dean's room looked like "an armory". There were also ones that he and Sam had found one day going through a box that was once Bobby's, and a few Sam had taken in while they were on the road. On the Impala's hood, in the Impala, outside of Bobby's and even one of John and Mary. Then there was the picture from New Years were Sam had fallen asleep so Charlie and Dean had drawn his face to resemble Darth Vader. It was all washable, but they didn't tell Sam until after his freak out. Several strips of photos from a photo booth were hidden in spots on his desk as Castiel had been very intrigued with the concept and had kept dragging Sam and Dean back in for one last picture.

All of the pictures may not have been out for display, but Dean enjoyed having them, it was his tiny bit of normalcy in his otherwise far from normal life.

Dean crawled out of his bed, put on Led Zeppelin's second album, and stripped down to his boxers and a tee shirt before crawling back in. He reached over and grabbed a book and his reading glasses off of his nightstand. He still cringed at the glasses, but he was now only months away from turning forty and his age was starting to catch up.

The door to his room opened and Dean was reminded of another change to his room. It wasn't just his anymore. Dean smiled and put the book down. "Hey Cas."

The angel smiled and took off his trench coat and suit jacket before sitting down on the bed. "Were you really going to read that book?"

Dean put it back on the nightstand along with his glasses. "I honestly wasn't going to; just something to pass the time. I think Sammy's rubbing off on to me."

Cas gave him a quick peck on the lips and loosened his tie. "But you have been around each other for years, wouldn't it have "rubbed off" earlier."

Dean shrugged. "I'll consider it old age."

Cas nodded and unbuttoned his shirt before then kicking off his trousers. He paused.

"What," asked Dean.

Cas pushed the clothing aside and moved to face Dean again, the opening notes to "What Is and What Shall Never Be" softly emitting from the record player. "The song, a bit sentimental tonight?"

Dean rolled over on the bed to make room for him. "Maybe. Can you turn it off?"

Cas walked over to the record player and gently lifted the needle up before turning off the player. He picked up the sleeve the record was kept in and waited until it had slowed down to lift it up and place it inside before returning it to its spot. "Is it common to be sentimental over a rock album?"

Dean chuckled. "Have you never heard couples say something was 'their song'?" Cas made his way back to the bed and Dean pulled him closer. "Listening to the album makes me think of you."

Cas gave him a look. "And the back of the Impala."

Dean grinned. "You remember that was the cassette playing?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I remember a bit of fog on the windows."

Dean rested his forehead against Cas's. "I remember a lot of fog." He paused and looked deeply into Cas's blue eyes. "But I'm sentimental just being in here too."

"And why is that?"

"Because it used to be mine and that was wonderful, but now-now it's _ours_ ," Dean explained, finishing the sentence with a kiss.

"I like that," Cas said with a smile.

Dean pulled Cas down so they were both lying on the bed, snuggled a bit closer. "Goodnight."

Cas leaned in and gave Dean a kiss with a bit more passion than the small pecks had been. Dean grinned and let his hands travel down to Cas's waist and pull him in a bit closer. The angel pulled his lips away from Dean and then placed a kiss on his forehead. "Sleep well, Dean." He burrowed his head on his pillow and under Dean's chin, a spot the angel had always gone back too.

Dean smiled and let himself run his fingers through Cas's hair with a contented sigh before pulling the covers up and closing his eyes, smile still on his face. Maybe it wasn't just the Bunker, but Dean felt like he was home. 


End file.
